


oui, je regrette le tout

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Primeval, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6687445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline Steel is hired for a job she didn't apply for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oui, je regrette le tout

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom stocking fic for goldarrow. :)

Caroline had never previously attended a job interview where the interviewer was sitting cross-legged in what was obviously combat clothing on the desk, toying with a steel-shafted arrow. It came as a particular surprise given that she was meant to be interviewing for a temporary position in HR at a major publisher's, and this was definitely the publisher's office.

Other circumstances led her to conclude that this was probably not her interviewer. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm looking for a Mrs Hartnett."

"That's not me," the would-be Robin Hood said, in a strong American accent. "And actually, you're here to be interviewed by Phil Coulson."

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else," Caroline said, eyeing his bow with misgiving, and reaching behind her for the doorhandle. She was clearly in the wrong room.

Instead of the cold metal of the handle or the false wood of the door, Caroline's fingers made contact with the thin fabric of a man's collared shirt, and she jumped and turned hurriedly. A rather nondescript middle-aged man with mild eyes and an immaculate suit looked back at her.

"Miss Steel," he said, smiling and extending a hand to her. "Phil Coulson. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," Caroline said untruthfully. "I'm interviewing for a position in Human Resources here."

"Well, I agree, you are remarkably well-suited to Human Resources. Duplicitous, an accomplished actress, intelligent, resourceful and possessed of an acceptable degree of integrity. An ideal candidate, I would have thought." He continued to smile blandly at her, as of nothing he'd said was the slightest bit out of the ordinary, and pulled a slim folder from his briefcase, which he handed to her. "But I and my superiors thought you might be better suited to this position."

Caroline stared at him. "Did James Lester put you up to this?"

"No," Phil Coulson said. "He merely recommended your CV."

"Right," Caroline said, and glanced at the folder. "Is this an American organisation? I'm British."

"We're very international."

"Right," Caroline repeated under her breath, flicking through the folder. "It certainly looks more... Interesting."

"Yeah, we do interesting," said the archer, playing with the lamp on the desk.

"Well-paid," Caroline remarked.

"Danger money," said the archer.

Caroline paused for a second to see if this revelation put her off, and was surprised to find that it didn't. "International travel."

"Guaranteed," said the archer. Phil Coulson nodded in amiable agreement.

Caroline closed the folder and looked at him. "Why me?"

"We're impressed by your skills," Coulson said blandly. "We'd like to give you the scope to use them. Just one question."

Caroline blinked at him; she had thought that he'd decided what he wanted before he even opened the door to her. "What?"

"Do you regret previous actions? Not specific ones. I mean in a general sense."

Caroline couldn't suppress her own laughter; Connor's accusing dark eyes and Abby's hard blue ones flashed before her memory, the echoing metal of those corridors, the handsome man who had sacrificed himself in a cavernous cage, the sickening feeling that she'd got a long way out of her depth and wouldn't be getting out alive, let alone persuading Leek to spare the civilians. "Yeah. I - yes, I do."

"My card," said Phil Coulson, producing one from nowhere and handing it to her. "Take the day, think about the job. No hurry."

"Thank you," Caroline said, a little unsteadily. 

"Have a nice day," Phil Coulson said with apparent sincerity, and then left the room.

Caroline was left staring at the archer. "Why did he ask me that?" she said, after a long moment of silence. 

The archer shrugged. "We need people. Not machines. He was just checking." He unfolded himself and jumped off the desk, then held his hand out to her. "Clint Barton. Welcome to the madhouse."

Caroline shook his hand, and refrained from telling him that he made no sense.


End file.
